Somewhere A Clock Is Ticking
by Emono
Summary: Arthur and Eames meet and from that moment on they can't seem to stay out of each other's lives. There's a spark between them, something dark and overwhelming, and it just might be everything they need. Will something more profound grow from this lust? Smut, D/s, light bondage, posessiveness, build up to real love and the Inception movie.


**Let me break it down for you, this is how the story will go.**

**I need a story to write in my down time and this is it. It's basically a D/s Arthur/Eames fic with sex, whump, some non-con at one time, some bondage (nothing serious), and lots of possessiveness. It's going to be a string of chapters from when they first met, to when they first fight, kiss, get together, have jobs, have sex, whatever all up until Inception. Then I will be re-writing the movie a bit, add some new things, maybe change it up, I don't know yet.**

**ANYWAY: This is just a fun fic to dump my UST into. I hope you enjoy and stay along for the ride.**

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The first time they met they were young.

Fresh faced, new to the business but already hardened to a razor's edge from double deals and cut-throat choices. It was a chance meeting. The wrong day, a delayed cab, a busted watch, a stop for coffee and they would have never met. It was years before the Inception job, years before they'd even hear about the possibility of implanting thoughts into someone's brain via Dream-Sharing. Years before Fischer became a target.

Arthur was already well-known for his meticulous detail and piercing attitude, the foundation of his reputation set.

Eames was a fence trying to muscle his way into the forging business. He had something to prove.

**xXx**

Arthur leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the table to steady himself. A file was laid out on his lap, the pen for marking it tucked behind his ear. He listened to his current team leader pace back and forth across the floor of the warehouse, eating up almost ten feet at a time before whirling around to start the trot all over again. It was beginning to become a steady rhythm to read to, but the angry mutterings were starting to get to him.

"Barker" Arthur called firmly, hoping to catch the man's attention "It's fine. One of them will come."

"This was a stupid idea" Barker berated himself "I should've called one."

"It's last minute and you know it" Arthur scolded lightly, keeping his eyes on the file "We're lucky we got an architect this close to the deadline. Three forgers showing up or not showing up is _not_ going to break us. We can do without, I told you this."

Barker looked worried. He had ever reason to, Arthur was lying through his teeth. He prayed for at least one to show up in a timely fashion. He glanced at his watch, the Forgers had forty-six minutes to show up before they had to start constructing and hashing out the plan. Their architect was sitting at a nearby desk, waiting impatiently with twitchy fingers to start creating.

Newbies were always so eager to show their stuff. It was kind of cute.

"And what if more than one shows up?" Arthur inquired, glancing up only long enough to see the man staring at him "Then what?"

"First one here gets it" Barker rattled off quickly.

The Point man raised an eyebrow at him, "Is that really how we want to run a mission, David?"

Barker looked pale and ashamed, "Well...what do you think?"

Arthur's lips curled in a small, knowing grin. They always broke in the end. He looked young and possibly delicate on the outside, swathed in his almost too-tight dress shirt and perfectly pressed pants. He hadn't slicked his hair this morning so he was keenly aware of just how juvenille he looked. It was hard for broad-shouldered, deep-voiced alpha males to take orders from him. But he knew all the tricks to bend them to his will. He knew what was best and, in the end, they all accepted it. He was good. The worst part was, at least for them, he knew how good he was.

Arthur was no one to push around.

"I'll examine them as they come in" Arthur replied easily "Whichever one has the stuff, I'll keep."

_Please let one of them be competent._

There was a brief knock on the door at the far end of the warehouse. There was a pause before the door was pushed open, exposing the silhouette of a well dressed older gentleman. He had an umbrella hovering over his head to keep the rain off his nicely laundered suit, shined shoes barely making a sound as he started toward them. His head was held high, gaze darting over the warehouse quickly as he approached to take in all the details. His hair was dark and slicked back, jaw square and pleasing.

"Gentlemen" he had a a very neutral American accent, probably forced "I hear you're in need of a forger."

"Get out."

The man paused at the sharp snap, "Excuse me?"

"I already did" Arthur scowled "You saw the door on your way in. Head back out it and don't stop until you're out of the city."

The Forger bristled, "How dare you! You called for a master Forger and here I am."

"Proficient, maybe" Arthur caught movement on the roof, a shade of color in the rain through the window "Master? Hardly. I won't repeat myself, sir. Leave."

Barker's gaze bounced between them, "...you heard him."

The Forger huffed and turned on his heels, striding right back out into the rain. The slam of the door ripped through the warehouse, startling the leader a little. Arthur went back to his notes, a displeased hunch to his shoulders now.

"What the hell was wrong with him?" Barker hissed.

"It was kind of obvious, wasn't it?" Arthur took his silence for stupidity "He was wrong for this job. We don't need someone like him gunking up the works. Trust me."

Barker watched the Point man look to the glass roof, as if serching for something, "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing" the younger man brushed him off, taking his pen out from behind his ear to make a mark "Just keep pacing and let me worry about the job."

Barker was about to protest when he heard a faint rattling. From the tilt of Arthur's head the Point man heard it too. It turned into a sort of scraping right before the door closest to them flew open, rain pouring across the floor in a sudden wash of strong wind. There was a man on the other side, kneeling with his hands still raised to the doorknob's height. He swiftly pocketed his picks and stood, soaked to the bone from the small storm. He came in and casually bumped the door closed with his hip, walking only so close.

Arthur sat up, dropping his feet to the floor with a slap.

Barker scoffed, "Well? Whatta think?"

"A second, David" Arthur stated curtly as he stood, studying the so-called Forger. The man's clothes were practically glued on him from the rain, thick arms bulging beneath the flimsy fabric of his t-shirt. His hair was dark bronze and plastered to his head, thick droplets of water crawling down into his lashes and carving slick paths along the curves of his cheeks. He was easily one of the most handsome men Arthur had ever seen. His skin was smooth, eyes as grey as the clouds outside, and full lips all pink and temptingly wet with rain. He cut a fit form. _Aesthetically pleasing_ came to mind.

Arthur started to walk toward him but the man tensed up.

"I'd rather stay over here if you don't mind, mate" his tone was light but there was an edge of warning there.

"Then you can leave" Arthur countered with an uncaring shrug, taking a step back but keeping on the heel of his foot. The soaked man's eyes widened only fractionally, a flash of panic skirting across his handsome face.

"Fine" the man's gaze fell to his waist "I'm unarmed."

Arthur raised his hands, placating the other man's need for safety, "Me too."

"I can see that" the Brit's shoulders relaxed a little "Go ahead."

"How kind" Arthur continued on, slowly walking around him. It started out in broad circles, getting closer with each pass like a true predator. The Brit tried to follow him with his eyed but he didn't want to turn, some kind of twisted way of letting the man examine him.

"You were on the roof" Arthur stated suddenly, startling the man and Barker.

The Forger frowned, "How did you know?"

"Your pants are smeared with dust from the side of the building" Arthur observed "And I saw you. Just for a second. If I hadn't been rolling my eyes at that other Forger, I wouldn't have seen you."

"I am rather good."

"You picked the lock."

"It was a simple barrel."

"You've delayed the other Forger."

Arthur smirked at the man's dumb founded expression, "That was just a guess."

"Guess how" the Forger insisted.

"You stole their cab."

"You're good" the Brit positively purred, almost mockingly "Can you guess what I had for breakfast this morning?"

Arthur stood just behind him, delicately sniffing his collar, "Jam."

The Brit turned his head, finding them rather close, "Are you some sort of bloodhound?"

"I bite like one" he shot back hotly "What's your name?"

"You first" the Brit insisted, turning so they were face to face.

"Arthur" the Point man cocked his head.

"Eames" he dipped his head for a moment, a rare sign of respect for the sharp man "At your service."

"Mr. Eames" Arthur rolled the name around in his mouth "I've heard of you. You're a fence. You'll understand why I'm at a loss at why you're _here_."

"You asked for a Forger and here I am" the edge was back "So either hire me or tell me to shove off. I can't piss the day away."

Arthur spent another few moments raking his eyed up and down his body, giving him more goosebumps than the cold water had.

"His tongue is silver and his lips are pretty, but can he forge?" Arthur seemed to ask Barker, brushing past the blonde "Let's find out."

Eames couldn't tear his eyes away from the Point man, not even if he tried.

**xXx**

The job ended smoothly and efficiently. Barker left shortly after the chemist darted off, their architect having bailed the second they'd awakened. It ended up with only the two of them in the warehouse, cleaning up the last of the evidence and tucking away all the odds and ends. Eames was loitering, a suit hanging off his broad shoulders. He looked much more grown-up than the first day, dry and well groomed in a usual sort of dress. Once those recon clothes were shed he was revealed to have a horrendously paisley-ish fashion. It was repulsive next to Arthur's suit but it looked more professional than those ripped jeans had.

Arthur snapped the PASIV case closed, securing the lock, "Job well done, Mr. Eames."

"Hm" Eames narrowed his eyes, unsure if the other was teasing or not. His humor came off as too dry to be sincere and his wit was cutting.

Arthur slipped his jacket on, buttoning it at the waist, "You doubt your own work?"

"I doubt your sly praise" Eames countered smoothly, the other reminding him of a cold black snake sliding through the grass.

"Be that as it may" Arthur hummed, picking up the case to let it hang at his side "I believe it's time to make our exit. It wouldn't do to have the client spotting us on the street."

Arthur started to walk toward the door when the Forger cleared his throat, "Arthur?"

The Point man paused, barely turning his head to acknowledge him.

"My payment" Eames felt a tingle of unease run through him, like a child asking a parent for permission "I've earned it."

It was strange. He knew what he was due and he should've been angry. But instead of letting his temper get the best of him he was asking for permission.

Arthur turned back, expression blank, "Oh?"

"I am not to be toyed with" Eames hated how desperate he sounded, like a small dog with a sharp bark. By Arthur's casual cadence toward him, the Point man had already called his bluff. If Arthur refused to pay him there was little he could do. He didn't know enough about him to call a hit and from what he'd already heard his reputation was spotless. There was something untouchable about the brunette, something sharp and pristine to him.

_Venomous snake in the grass._

Eames knew he should run but his feet wouldn't move. He was stuck in place, frozen under the younger man's hot gaze.

Arthur crowded in on his space, almost bumping noses with him before turning his head just so. The Point man's breath grazed his ear, warmth bleeding through their clothes to send little shivers through his body. For a moment, Eames couldn't breathe, he couldn't think of anything but the man's baby face and impeccable aim. He thought of how Arthur had whipped a projection's head to the side, snapping his neck with barely a grimace.

Eames inhaled deeply. Fuck, Arthur smelled like gun oil and the kind of expensive cologne rich women bought their young studs.

"I'd say you did more than earn it" Arthur murmured intimately, voice as smooth as syrup "You scouted us out before we'd ever laid an eye on you. When we met, you stood far enough away from me to dodge a bullet but close enough to show your hesitant trust. You spoke up when you had good ideas and kept your mouth shut when you didn't. Your forges were near perfect and you slipped between the mark's husband and sister flawlessly. You fended off nearly twelve projections with nothing but pistols."

Eames' lashes fluttered when the man pressed closer, something thick brushing his front pocket. He felt his cock take a keen interest in the contact, arousal threatening to strain the seam of his pants. Firm lips touched his ear, his knees almost gave out.

"If only I could pay you more, Mr. Eames" Arthur's sigh ghosted over his sensitive neck, elegant fingers pushing a roll of hundreds into the Forger's pocket "You were so _very_ good."

Eames barely resisted the urge to push into him, and when he opened his eyes it was to see his Point man's back. Arthur was walking out like nothing had happened. That cool, professional cloak was once more wrapped around him. The bastard didn't even look back. Like Eames wasn't standing there hard enough to pound nails, like he wasn't uncharacteristically flustered, like he wasn't breathless with sudden lust...

The door closed between them. He was gone.

Eames leaned against the nearest desk as he turned red for a whole different reason. What the hell was wrong with him? To get all flushed like a school girl over a pair of smolderingly beautiful eyes? It was pathetic. He didn't have time to fall in love with a stranger in the heart of New York. He'd proven himself. _That_ was important. Not this mysterious _Arthur_. The cold bastard, the meticulous brat, the sly snake. He was precise, unimaginative, picky, and a hundred other awful things.

Eames pulled the wad of cash out of his pocket, flicking it open to count it up. A simple, plain white card fell out into his palm. He tossed the money aside and stared at the card instead, a little rectangle of stiff material that appeared blank. He tilted it toward the light, surprised to find silvery lettering imprinted there. It read:

_Arthur_

_Researcher, P.M._

"Point man" Eames observed, flipping the card over. There was only one line of text on the back, written on with black ink and flowy script.

_Ne pas oublier_

"Don't forget" he huffed, thumb flicking over the edge of the card.

"_You were so very good."_

How could he ever forget?

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**If you like this and want more, click that follow. I am seriously accepting all suggestions for scenes. Anything sexy you want them to do? Anything dirty? Any situation you think would bring out the sexy angst in our boys? Whatever you want, I will try to do. I just like writing little ficlets that string together.**

**Review, my loves, it does a fangirl heart good to hear you wanting me to continue this**


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